Somewhere in Between
by MuslimBarbie
Summary: "Malfoy, I am not stalking you and I am most certainly not obsessed with you." – A coincidental run in, the aftermath, and the little moments in between. -Three shot, complete.-
1. One

**Title:** Somewhere in Between  
**Summary:** "Malfoy, I am not stalking you and I am most certainly _not _obsessed with you."_ – A coincidental __run in, the aftermath, and the little moments in between._  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. The song belongs to Everlife.  
**Warnings:** Not epilogue compliant; no other warnings for this chapter.  
**Word count: **4605.

* * *

**Just when you learned the game of life****  
****All the rules change overnight**

…

The first time she saw him wasn't at all how she expected it would be.

She was walking through the halls of the Ministry to her office, having just returned from a lunch date with Ron, when she spotted him walking in the opposite direction of her. Tall, lean, and wearing robes that were probably far too expensive, Draco Malfoy looked no different from the boy who had taunted her in school. And the closer he got, the more Hermione prepared herself for some sort of snide remark that he was known for.

Instead all she got was a simple nod of acknowledgement as he passed by her.

She barely had a chance to give him her own nod before slipping out of sight. She immediately chastised herself for expecting the worse of him. After all, look as he may, he was not the same boy he had been at Hogwarts. The war had changed him. It had changed them all. It was only natural for him to behave differently than he had before. It was perfectly normal.

Still, Hermione could not help but glance back over her shoulder at him. Much to her surprise, he turned his head back at the same moment.

It was a strange feeling, her eyes meeting Malfoy's. There was no judgment, no prejudice, no disgust about him, just a simple curiosity hiding behind his eyes. And it struck her that maybe, just maybe, he had been expecting the same from her as she had been from him. Her side had won and his had lost, and after all the taunts he had given her once upon a time, it was only reasonable that he would expect the same from her now. She – a simple Muggle born – had surpassed his entire ancestry as far as the Wizarding World was concerned.

"Oh Merlin, I'm _so_ sorry!"

Her thoughts, however, came (quite literally) crashing down when her distracted gaze caused her to run into another employee. The witch apologized profusely to her, helping her up and gathering her things. Hermione forced a smile and did her best to assure the witch that it was quite alright and that it was her fault for not watching where she was going.

But when Hermione glanced back again, Malfoy was nowhere in sight.

...

The second time it happened, she was sure she must have been dreaming.

It was nearly a week and a half after she had seen in him the Ministry. She was shopping at the Third Hand Book Emporium when she caught a peak of blonde through an open space in one of the shelves. His fingers brushed against the spine of a first edition copy of _Greatest Wizards of the Eighteenth Century_ before pulling it off of the shelf. He spent only moments flipping through the pages before snapping it shut.

Hermione's breath hitched as Malfoy turned to leave. Spinning on her heel, she turned her back to the bookshelf, pretending to be searching for a book. It proved to be ineffective, as she did not hear any indications that Malfoy had moved from his spot. She counted to five before selecting a second edition copy of _Sites of Historical Sorcery_ (a book she had, in fact, been searching for before) and adding it to her basket. Taking a breath, she turned to leave, only to find Malfoy watching her through the same space.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither quite sure of how to act. Part of her was scolding herself for acting so foolish, telling her to just leave already. Another part, however, was convinced that it wasn't actually happening. It had been nearly two years since she had last seen the Malfoy face-to-face, yet they had stumbled upon each other twice in the past two weeks. Because things like this have not happened to her since the war and there was absolutely no reason for them to start again.

Slowly, a smirk tugged at Malfoy's lips and his confusion was replaced with a smug amusement. Instinctively, a scowl formed at her mouth, which only seemed to amuse him further. But then his gaze met hers again, and Hermione could almost swear that she could see something swirling in the grey of his eyes.

"Hermione, are you done yet? Ginny is going to kill us if we're late for lunch again!"

"Um, yes, Harry. I'm coming." She called back, breaking her gaze from Malfoy's and turning to leave. As she did, she could hear his footsteps fading away in the opposite direction.

...

By the next time, Hermione was starting to get suspicious.

Not three days later was she in St. Mungo's to meet Padma. Despite what many people thought of her, she did have friends outside Harry and the Weasley family; she had actually liked the Ravenclaw girl. However, between Padma's Healer schedule and all Hermione's work at the Ministry, they barely found the time to meet. So when Padma had owled her asking her to have lunch with her one afternoon, it wasn't exactly something Hermione could deny her friend.

She had barely made it ten steps into the floor when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle up. And sure enough, sitting in one of the seats in the waiting room was none other than Draco Malfoy, staring at her with crossed arms and a cocked brow. And even though there was apparent confusion written across his own face, Hermione's eyes narrowed at him. This would be the third time as of late that she had seen the wizard.

Maybe he had the same thoughts as her, because he stood from his seat, his eyes on her.

"Mr. Malfoy, you can go in now." The witch behind the counter told him.

He stared at Hermione for a moment more before turning to the witch and giving her a smile so arrogant it had to belong to a Malfoy. "Thank you." He nodded before walking into one of the back rooms.

A hand tapped her on the shoulder before she even had the chance to react. "Hermione, you ready to go?"

Hermione turned to face Padma, smiling at her. "Sure, let's go."

It wasn't later until Hermione began to wonder why exactly Malfoy would want to visit someone in St. Mungo's.

...

The fourth time Hermione saw him, she was sure something had to be happening.

She was at a restaurant ordering carry out for dinner, when she saw him sitting alone at the bar. His head was bowed down, reading some sort of document, but there was no doubt that it was the youngest Malfoy.

Now there were two ways that Hermione could handle this. First, she could ignore it and toss the whole thing to a very strange coincidence. After all, it wasn't as if the Wizarding World was as large as the Muggle one, and there were bound to be times where she ran into her old peers. Or she could calmly approach him and confront him about it. Only two weeks had passed since their first encounter in the Ministry – their first in nearly two years – and honestly, the time for strange coincidences had passed. Besides, one could not be friends with Harry Potter for long and believe that such coincidences really did exist.

She stood at the bar, between his seat and another empty one. Malfoy looked up from his document with a cocked brow.

"Granger." He nodded, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey. "Why doesn't it surprise me that you're here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Malfoy." She said. "Would you care to explain why you've felt the need to follow me these past few weeks?"

He snorted. "Trust me Granger, I've done no such thing."

"And you've just so happened to be in the same locations at me at the same time?"

"As odd as I find it, that seems to be the case."

Hermione stared at him for a moment. Part of her felt foolish for thinking such a thing, but another part of her (one that reminded her a bit of Ron and Harry) wasn't sure she believed him. It would, after all, have to be an incredible coincidence for their paths to cross so many times after hardly seeing each other for years.

"Sorry I'm late, darling." A voice broke her train of thought and Hermione had to glance past Malfoy to be able to see the younger blonde witch who had come over. "I lost track of time."

Malfoy smirked at Hermione for a moment before turning to face Astoria Greengrass. "It's quite alright, darling." He stood and kissed her on the cheek.

It was only then that the other witch seemed to notice Hermione's presence. She glanced between Malfoy and Hermione. "Oh! I didn't realize you were meeting someone else as well."

"Nonsense. I was just informing Granger here that I was meeting you." Hermione did not miss the amused tone in his voice. "Isn't that right, Granger?"

Hermione blushed. "Er, right."

Without another word, Malfoy wrapped his arm around Astoria's waist and led her away, leaving Hermione alone and feeling completely daft.

...

The fifth time she was with Ron.

They were being fitted for a new pair of dress robes. Although the honouring of the Second Wizarding War's victory was still months away, Hermione wanted to get the task done and set aside rather than wait until the last minute. Somehow Twilfitt and Tatting's had caught wind of this and (probably in attempt to clear their old pure-blood elitist reputation) offered Hermione and Ron new dress robes free of charge, just so the war heroes could be seen shopping there.

"Aren't you finished yet?" Ron half whined, collapsing in a waiting chair as the witch continued to shorten the trim of Hermione's robes. His robes had not nearly been as difficult to fit.

She rolled her eyes. "It's only been twenty minutes, Ronald." But she shook her head nevertheless. "Why don't you go ahead and go then? If you pick up lunch, I'll meet you back at the flat."

Instantly Ron's eyes lit up and a grin spread across his lips. Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Really?" He was already on his feet. "Thank you." He kissed her on the cheek before all but running to the door.

It was just as his fingers were about to brush against the door handle that it opened and revealed none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Weasley." He nodded. His gaze turned to the centre of the room where Hermione was being fitted. He still seemed slightly confused to be seeing her again, but he also seemed more amused than anything else. His eyes traced the dress robes she was in, but he made no comment.

"Malfoy." Ron all but spat out before Malfoy could speak again. "What are you doing here?"

To his credit, the other wizard merely gave him the same cocked brow he had been giving Hermione. "I would think it would be obvious, Weasley. I'm here to pick up a new set of dress robes." He paused and then added, almost as an afterthought. "But perhaps I've given your intelligence far too much credit. It wouldn't be the first time that happened, now would it?" Malfoy turned away from Ron before he had the chance to comment. "Sadira, I'm here to pick up my last fitting."

The witch was already pulling a bag out. "Here you go, Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you." He took the bag. "As lovely as it's been, Weasley, I'll be taking my leave now." He turned to Hermione again, this time nodding at her. "Granger."

"Malfoy." She nodded back.

Without even so much as sparing another glance at the now annoyed Ron, he slipped out the doors.

...

The next time it happened Hermione didn't even notice him entering the room.

She was sitting in a small cafe, sipping coffee and lost in the world of her book, when she heard a chair at her table slide. Marking her place (careful to never rush and lose the information), she put the book down to find none other than Draco Malfoy across the table from her. And for some reason she could not fathom, Hermione was honestly surprised to see him.

"Malfoy."

"Granger." He nodded, already pulling out his copy of _The Prophet_, but gave no further explanation as to what in Merlin's name he was doing.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually," Malfoy turned the page of his paper. "I thought I would help you out."

"Is that so? Well, how gracious of you. Would you care to inform me with what exactly?"

"Yes. Because you see, your insistent need to follow me has become all too obvious–"

"I am not following you, Malfoy. You were the one who just approached me."

Malfoy, never missing a beat, put his paper down and continued as if she had not just spoken. "And so there are three ways in which I could go about this. First, I could chose to ignore you, but you and I both know that this has not been a very successful solution. Second, I could have you reported, but you see, that would involve alerting the authorities and signing paperwork and frankly, I neither have the time nor patience for such things. So finally, I could just join you and hope to Merlin you will get past this silly obsession of yours." He paused. "Though, I can't see that happening anytime soon. I am very easy to obsess over." He added, almost as an afterthought.

"As interesting as your theory is, you seem to be neglecting the possibility that I may not be stalking you. After all, wasn't it you who said that we could very well just be going to the same places at the same time?"

"Yes, quite a few run ins prior. But your stalking has grown more and more obsessive since."

"Despite what you might believe, the world does not revolve around you."

"Oh, I'm quite aware. However, under the circumstances, what else could I possibly be led believe? Admit it Granger, you're obsessed with me."

"Malfoy, I am not stalking you and I am most certainly _not_ obsessed with you."

"And yet here you are, sitting with me."

"Because I was here first."

He shrugged her comment off. "Whatever you say, Granger. Now if you don't mind, I was in the middle of quite an interesting article." And then, as if he was at his own table, he leaned back into his chair and returned his attention to _The Prophet_.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, not sure what to make of what exactly he was playing at. However, he did not even bother to give her a second glance as he was far too engrossed in his paper. For a moment she considered gathering her belongings and moving to another table or even leaving the cafe all together. But it almost seemed overly dramatic given the situation, because despite the annoyance of his appearance, Malfoy had not actually done anything horridly offensive. Granted, he had accused her of stalking and obsessing over him, but she had a hard time believing that he truly meant it. Something in his voice lacked the harshness he had used against her as a child.

Against her better judgment, Hermione sighed and returned to her own reading. They were no longer children so surely they could manage to share a table without a problem. She would remain seated, but if Malfoy made any indication of meaning his comments, she would leave.

Much to her surprise, however, the remainder of their meal passed in peace.

...

The following week when she returned to the cafe, she found it overfilled, not a single free table in sight.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, we have no empty tables at the moment. I'm sure one will open up momentarily, however."

Hermione opened her mouth to say that she would just have her lunch elsewhere, but paused at the last moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar blonde wizard.

"Actually, I think I am meeting someone here." She mumbled and without waiting for a reply, she walked past the host to a table in the far corner of the cafe.

Sure enough, Malfoy sat alone at a table in the back corner. Hermione did not bother to say a word as she pulled out the chair across from him and took her seat. He had, after all, taken the liberty of inviting himself to her table before. It was only fair that she be allowed to do the same now, especially seeing as there were no other free tables.

And the moment she was actually seated, she noticed the book in his hand. "Of all books, why doesn't it surprise me that you would be reading that particular one?"

"Good afternoon to you too, Granger." Malfoy marked his place before putting his copy of _History's Greatest Wizards_ down. "And I take it you weren't a fan of it?"

She crinkled her nose. "It completely neglected any of the wizards of the thirteenth centaury, not to mention the Magical Reform Movement of the sixteenth centaury in Belgium."

"Of course it did; there was nothing of the sort even worth mentioning. The thirteenth centaury did nothing apart from founding a few schools. As for the Belgians, what have they ever done that wasn't already done by the French or the British first?"

"Opening up an academic institution is no simple matter, even today. Besides, it had no problem mentioning Highmaster Gellert of Durmstrang or Madame Viviane of Beauxbatons. And the Belgians may not have been the first to accomplish what came from their Reform, but it was done completely independent of the knowledge that the others had already done the same. So in some ways, their discoveries were original as well."

Malfoy scoffed. "Only you would believe such a delusion, Granger. None of the schools opened in the thirteenth centaury brought any great wizards and are all but gone now. If they were unable to produce a single wizard noteworthy, then the school obviously is not worthy of mentioning. And as for your precious Belgians..."

The next thing Hermione knew, nearly two hours had passed of them simply debating. And for some strange reason, though no actual conversational words has even passed between them, and even though Malfoy did not see eye to eye with her even in the end, Hermione couldn't help but realize it might have been the most she had enjoyed herself all week.

...

Three weeks passed with four more run-ins with Malfoy, but despite the strangeness of the start, not a single meeting had been as awkward as anticipated. Actually, she almost found herself looking forward to them.

Malfoy was far more intelligent than Harry, Ron, or even she had ever given him credit for. And though his sources and opinions (but mostly his opinions) often differed from hers, he was always well informed on any subject they chose to debate about. And Merlin, did they debate.

Sometimes they would get furious. Sometimes it would even lead to petty insults (the type she was usually above). Once it had even led to one of them storming off and not returning until their next meeting. But somehow, it was alright the next time their paths would cross. They would ignore their previous discussion – both believing they had won – and move onto a new topic. It was odd, but somewhere in between all the debates, the yelling, and their differences, they had found this strange compatibility.

Hermione had never expected to have such a relationship with Draco Malfoy of all people.

And apparently, neither had Ron.

She had barely taken three steps into their flat when she spotted him on the couch, face red and a copy of what she assumed to be _The Prophet_ in hand. The moment she stepped into his vision, he was on his feet screaming.

"Malfoy? Of all people, Malfoy?"

"Ron, what in Merlin's name _are_ you talking about?" She asked, truly not knowing. She had been working late at the ministry again, it had been a few days since she had seen the blonde wizard, and he was honestly the furthest thing from her mind.

"Don't give me that, Hermione. I know you've been meeting him behind my back!" He slammed the crumpled copy of his paper on the coffee table. On the front page of the section was a photograph of Hermione and Malfoy at the cafe. It had been one of their rare moments of agreement on a topic, and a relaxed smile rested on Malfoy's lips while Hermione sipped her coffee.

"Oh, that."

"What do you mean '_oh that_'? You've been meeting Malfoy behind my back!"

"I am doing no such thing, Ron. Calm down."

"Then what do you call this?" He waved the paper in her face.

Hermione sighed, took the paper from his hand and put it on the couch. "Lately we've had this tendency to go to the same places at the same time and we just thought it would be easier to stop avoiding each other and simply go with it. That's all."

"But it's _Malfoy_."

"Yes, Ronald, I'm quite aware of that." She rolled her eyes. "Things are different now, though. We're not in school anymore. We run into each other, we have a discussion, we move on. It's as simple as that."

"But you're seeing him behind my back!"

"I am not. I just did not think it was anything noteworthy enough to share." And it was true. But she knew better than to bring up because she knew that Ronald would over react and think it was something more than it really was. "Nothing's changed, Ron." She took a step closer to him and rested her hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. "Malfoy is just..." She paused for the slightest of moments. What was Malfoy to her? Friend didn't seem like an appropriate word for their relationship, but neither was he just an acquaintance. "Someone I run into from time to time. That's all."

Ron stared at her for a moment. His face, though still slightly pink, had faded from the red he'd had when she arrived. And for a moment, Hermione knew he would understand. He may not like it, but he would trust her enough to understand.

"Don't see him again."

"_What_?"

"Hermione, he's _Malfoy_! He can't be trusted. Don't you remember everything he did to you in school?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I seem to recall someone else who was cruel to me during school, Ronald."

Ron winced. "'Mione, that's..."

"I'm going out. Don't wait up for me."

And without another word, Hermione apparated away.

...

It really shouldn't have surprised Hermione that he was there.

But when she arrived at the coffee shop and spotted him sitting there, she bit her lip, unsure for the first time in weeks on what to do. It was, after all, meeting him that had caused her and Ronald to have this spat, so perhaps it was wise to try to avoid the blonde wizard for some time. But she quickly shook the thought from her head. She was doing nothing wrong and Ronald had no right to try to control her life like that.

Malfoy looked up from his paperwork and gave her an amused look. "I take it Weasley didn't take well to today's issue of _The Prophet_."

"He completely over reacted." Hermione scanned the menu before ordering a coffee and a lemon cake. "He actually had the nerve to tell me not to see you again. As if he has control over whom I can and cannot see!"

"What did you expect?"

"I expected that he would trust me enough to make my own decisions."

Malfoy snorted. "You expect far too much from him."

"How is it wrong to expect that much from someone?"

"We're not talking about _someone_, Granger, we're talking about _Weasley_. He doesn't trust someone who so much as breathes wrong around him. Everything is a threat."

"But there's no threat. We haven't even been trying to meet; it just happens. I told him that. It's not like I'm planning on leaving him for you or some rubbish. He should know that."

"And there you go again, Granger, expecting too much from him."

"So you think I shouldn't expect basic trust from Ronald?"

"Of course I do, but I know better than to expect that of you." He continued before she could say anything. "He's not this hero you've built him up to be, Granger. He's not even Potter. He's _Weasley_." He took another sip of his coffee.

"He's better than you give him credit for."

"Possibly. But you give him too much credit."

An awkward silence passed over them and Hermione's fingers toyed with her cup. She desperately wanted to defend Ron, but she wasn't quite sure if she could. Did she expect too much from him? He did have a tendency to get upset over things she thought to be insignificant. His reaction to the paper's article about her and Malfoy was only the most recent example of his overreacting. But did that really mean she should start expecting worse of him? Weren't you supposed to expect the best out of the person you love?

"So what do you suggest I do then? Not expect anything good from him? That's rather awful, don't you think?"

Malfoy sighed dramatically. "Merlin, you're impossible. You should expect him to be Weasley. Not this person you've built him up to be. He's Weasley, he has faults. He's not perfect." He smirked and added, almost as an afterthought. "He's not me, after all."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And you say I'm impossible." She took a sip of her latte. "So is that how you see Greengrass? With all her faults? No higher expectations?" Malfoy didn't reply. "Astoria Greengrass, right? I read that you were engaged. So you knew how she would react to the article?"

He smirked. "And here you claim to not be stalking me."

"Don't change the subject."

Malfoy stared at her, a strange expression in his eyes. But he broke away before she could have the chance to even begin an attempt to figure it out, and gathered the papers he had on the table. "Goodnight, Granger." He said, dropping a few coins onto the table.

"Wait one minute, Malfoy!"

But he ignored her, instead walking past her and outside to the apparition point, leaving Hermione annoyed, confused, and alone.

**...**

**When life starts making sense****  
****The world is upside down again**  
_Go Figure_, Everlife

* * *

**Note: **So I decided to take the risk and just post this. I was paranoid about posting this because I feel like my writing level has dramatically decreased in the past year, but when I was talking to my dad this morning, I realized the only way to get it back is to continue writing. I only have half of the next chapter written and none of it typed out, so hopefully posting it now will encourage me to continue writing it.

This was my original idea with _Curiosity _and _Need_ (I hadn't yet thought of _Moment_) so when I sat down to start working on _Moment_, this started coming out instead. Yes, I'm aware this chapter is probably boring and yes, I'm aware that my writing isn't so great in this chapter, but the coming ones should be better. I have the whole story planned already; it will be three parts split into six chapters. Any feedback on how I can fix my writing/grammar would be highly appreciated.

Special thanks to **Muffintine **who saved this story from being a complete grammatical mess. (Seriously, I'm still breaking the habit of writing English like Turkish.)

Review, please. =]


	2. Two

**Title:** Somewhere in Between  
**Summary:** "Malfoy, I am not stalking you and I am most certainly _not _obsessed with you."_ – A coincidental __run in, the aftermath, and the little moments in between._  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. The song belongs to Cavo.  
**Warnings:** Not epilogue compliant; slight sexual mention, slight language.  
**Word count: **5400.

* * *

**There will come a day****  
****When it all comes falling down**  
**I just can't walk away****  
****I find myself crashing back into you**

...

The fourteenth time Hermione saw Malfoy was at an art gallery.

It wasn't hard to find him. Half of the gallery was shut down in order to prepare for the exhibit that would honour the heroes of the Second Wizard War, thus very few people were interested in coming until after. It was still a bit odd for Hermione, seeing art galleries in the Wizarding World, but it was a new trend that had blossomed over the past two years. _Witch Weekly_ had even written that if one was not a regular patron of the art, their name was not worth knowing.

So it really didn't surprise Hermione when she found Malfoy in London's largest Wizarding Art gallery. In fact what confused was the section in which he was. All of the Wizarding World's supposed finest and most in demand artist were categorized into a few select rooms, none of which he were the room he chose. Instead, she found him in a small, hidden section where mostly the unknown or less popular artists were displayed.

Before she had the chance to approach him, he turned his head over his shoulder, glanced at her, and then turned back to a painting. "Are you going to come here or not? Because you watching me like that is rather unnerving." Though he was not close to her, the gallery was empty enough for him not have to raise his voice in order for her to hear him.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not watching you, Malfoy." She said, but approached him nevertheless. It was only once she was beside him that she took note of the painting he was before.

There was a clear split down the middle of the painting, each side holding a set of wizards and witches. The two sides were facing each other, fighting, but there was a dark figure that lingered over them all, killing them. Neither side, however, seemed to notice, too lost in their fight. A war that killed both sides.

The painting was different from the others that hung in the gallery. Not only was it one of the only pieces that was painted with no magical effects, it neither glorified the light nor patronized the dark. It was filled with the emotions, the pain the author must have been feeling. It was an expression and not just a painting.

But what finally struck Hermione most interesting was the name signed in the corner. "Druilla Black? A relative of yours?" She asked, finally breaking her gaze from the portrait.

He didn't turn to face her, but a smirk tugged at his lips. "Now you know my relatives? That sounds quite a bit like stalker talk to me, Granger."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not stalking if you spent all our Hogwarts years prattling on about your lineage."

His smirk grew slightly, but he remained silent, refusing to tear his eyes away from the art work. Curiosity tugged at Hermione, but she did her best to push it aside. There was something about the seriousness of Malfoy's expression that kept her from further asking. His face was both relaxed and grave, calm and tense, as if he was trying to enjoy the art but there was a foul odour in the air ruining his mood and she didn't dare interrupt.

Instead she took a seat on the bench beside him and turned her attention to the painting as well.

"My grandmother." Malfoy finally said nearly half an hour later when he finally stood. "She painted it before I even reached my first birthday."

Hermione's brows furred slightly. "I wasn't aware that the Blacks were art patrons, much less artists then." Wizarding art was fairly new craze; it was odd to imagine that a prestige pureblood family such as the Blacks supporting something that would have been considered "muggle's work" at the time.

"They didn't. That was the problem."

"What do you mean?"

He stared at her for a moment, before the smirk came tugging at his lips again. "Goodbye, Granger."

"_Malfoy_." She hissed.

Never once glancing back, Malfoy again walked away without another word.

...

Two days later, Hermione met Padma for lunch again.

This time instead of meeting at St. Mungo's, the two decided it would just be easier to meet at the restaurant. So when Padma arrived, she found Hermione waiting at the table, reading a book.

"_Tracing Your Ancestry_? I wasn't aware you read about pureblood families." Padma remarked, taking her seat across from her.

Hermione shook her head and she marked her place in her book. "Normally I don't. However, I am searching for particular pureblood, an artist I spotted at the art gallery the other day."

"Oh?"

"Druilla Black. Have you heard of her? I can't seem to find many references to her, much less her work."

"You won't find anything. The Blacks all but erased any mention of her."

"What do you mean?"

"Druilla was a bit... different from the other Blacks. She supported the pureblood linage and all, but she was against the war. She didn't want to see her loved ones suffer or die from it. She couldn't _say_ so, of course, doing so would mean not only her death, but the possibility of endangering her family's lives as well. But she had to express herself somehow, get her feelings out, and that somehow ended up being art. Her husband didn't take well to it, of course – not only was she protesting the war, she was doing it through..."

"A muggle method. Art."

"Exactly. He locked away all of her paintings and forbid her from continuing."

"How dreadful!" Hermione paused. "But how do you know this? If they erased all references..." Padma remained silent, suddenly finding her menu absurdly interesting. Hermione's eyes widened. "She's at St. Mungo's? He _tortured_ her?"

Padma flinched slightly. "It isn't as uncommon as you'd like to think, Hermione. Some wizards, though most are dead or locked away in Azkaban now, thank Merlin, will do anything to ... '_protect'_ their family's reputation."

"That's terrible!"

But suddenly it all made sense – Malfoy's being at St. Mungo, the art gallery, his silence on the issue. The only question now was whether or not to bring the issue up with him.

...

The next morning she saw Malfoy again.

Well, more accurately he saw her.

She had fallen asleep working the previous night and had not heard her alarm sound in the morning. Merlin only knew what would have happened had Ron not found her an hour later, asking why breakfast had not been made. Naturally, Hermione had been frantic to get a shower and dressed quickly as to not be late for work, thus leaving Ron and her without breakfast. Fortunately she had just enough time to stop at the bakery near her office for a small, innutritious, but quick breakfast.

She had barely placed in her order for a banana-nut muffin and a cup of coffee when he came beside her and placed in his own order.

"Late start?"

"Late night."

"Thanks Granger, but I'd rather not hear about your sex life with Weasley."

"I was working, Malfoy."

"Well, with Weasley I'm sure that it is, but I'd still rather not hear about it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning to face him. But when she actually saw him, the memories from the previous meeting at the art gallery came flooding back to her and any inclination she had to scold him faded.

There was no denying her curiosity. She wanted to know about his grandmother: what he thought of her being against the war when he was younger. Did he even know? Obviously his view on the issue had changed over the years, but had he always visited Druilla or her works? Had he even known they existed? And what of her? Had she seen her works since Malfoy's childhood? Did she even have any idea that her paintings hung in the most famous gallery in the Wizarding World?

But another part of her knew better than to push the issue. It was very obviously a sensitive topic for him and their relationship (acquaintanceship? friendship? whatever it was that they had) was still new. It would be perfectly understandable for him not to feel comfortable discussing the issue with her. Her asking him out of the blue, when he had clearly avoided the topic before, certainly would not help him to feel at ease with her. If anything, asking him would only scare him off.

No, she realised, mentioning the topic would not bring her any answers. She would have to wait until he felt comfortable enough to tell her on his own.

"Granger, if you don't stop looking at me like that, I may very well have to reconsider filing that stalker complaint."

She shook off any lingering thoughts of the issue. "I'm not stalking you, Malfoy. You were the one who approached me this time." She answered automatically. "And what look?"

"That pity look. You were looking at me as if I was eleven and you just told me that Hogwarts doesn't exist."

"I did no such thing."

"You most certainly did."

Hermione once again rolled her eyes (it was becoming a more and more common habit the more she saw him), opting to ignore him rather than continue as an actual eleven year old would.

"So what was it that made you look at me like that?"

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the bakery's clock indicating that it was five minute to the hour and she had to hurry if she wanted to arrive to the Ministry on time. She had no record of arriving late and she had no inclination to begin now. Handing the witch behind the counter the appropriate number of coins, she took her order.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she gave Malfoy her own smug look. "Goodbye, Malfoy." She said before turning and leaving without giving him an answer.

...

The nineteenth time she saw Malfoy, she knew that even he couldn't ruin her good mood.

He seemed to have read her thoughts, because the moment she took her seat at their table, he cocked a brow at her. "Granger..." He said slowly.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"What did I tell you about bringing up your and Weasley's sex life to me?"

Perhaps it was because she was in such a good mood or perhaps it was just because she had grown so accustomed to his crude comments, but either way Hermione felt no inclination to scold or lecture him. Instead she merely rolled her eyes and placed her order.

"Well then you'll be pleased to know my good mood has no relation to the sort now."

"Oh?"

"But it does have to do with Ron."

"Oh." Malfoy said, turning his attention back to his paper.

Hermione waited a moment. "Aren't you curious as to what he did?"

"No." He didn't even bother to glance at back up at her. "Although I am curious as to why you would think I would be curious, Granger." He said, flipping a page.

Hermione pushed the paper away from his face and continued as if he had given her the answer she wanted. "Our anniversary is approaching and Ron is going to take me to the opera. I have been trying to convince him to go with me for ages, but he always refuses. The other day though, Ginny told me she spotted him at the theatre buying tickets."

Malfoy stared at her for a moment. "I see." He finally said before turning his attention back to his copy of _The Prophet_.

Somewhere in between the time they had begun their meetings Hermione had begun to predict Malfoy's reactions to the things she said or the comments she would make. She was actually beginning to get quite good at it actually. But _that_, however, was most definitely not the reaction she had been expecting from him.

She frowned. "Well?" She said when he remained silent.

He glanced at her over the top of his paper, the same cocked brow expression on his face. "Well what?"

"Let's hear it."

"Hear what?"

"Whatever it is that you feel the need to say."

"And what makes you think that I feel the need to say anything?"

"Because, Malfoy, you always feel the need to say something."

"Well, perhaps this time I don't."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You're lying."

"Granger, do you _want_ me to attack Weasley?"

"Of course I don't, but you always feel the need to regardless of what it is I want, so what is it?"

He groaned. "Fine, you want me to say it? Then I will, but it's not anything I haven't already told you before: you're expecting too much from him. This is _Ron Weasley_ you're prattling on about. Does that honestly sound like something he would do?"

It didn't. But that didn't mean he wouldn't. "He knows how much I want to go."

"Yes, but does that mean _he_'ll actually go?"

Malfoy had a point, she knew he did. But still... "You're wrong. Ginny saw him at the theatre." What other reason could he possibly have to being there?

"Perhaps. Or perhaps you really do expect too much from him."

"Not this time. You'll see."

This time it was him that rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Granger." He mumbled, turning back to his paper. And just like that, Hermione knew her previous belief was wrong.

Malfoy knew _exactly_ how to get under her skin and ruin her mood.

...

Nearly a week passed without anything out of the ordinary.

Hermione came home to find Ron sitting in the living room, a copy of _The Prophet_ in hand. "Any interesting articles?" She asked, putting her work bag down. "I didn't have a chance to read it this morning."

He paused for the slightest of moments. "Nothing in particular." He said, flipping the page.

She stared at him for a moment, wondering what caused him to hesitate so. Ron didn't seem to notice, however, and continued to read the paper. Hermione shook her head; she was being ridiculous. "I'll make pasta for dinner." She had barely taken two steps before she heard him groan. "Or is there something else you'd prefer?"

"No, not that." He tossed the paper onto the coffee table. "It's bloody Malfoy. He can't even breathe without there being another damned article about him." The tone he took was strange. If she hadn't known any better, Hermione wouldn't have believed he was as upset as he said he was. "I mean, who in Merlin's name cares if there is going to be another Malfoy brat?"

Hermione felt her breath hitch before she could stop it. She stared at Ron, frozen, waiting for him to elaborate. Instead he turned to her as if he were attempting to read her reaction. They stood like that for a moment, staring at each other. Finally Hermione mentally shook her head.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"You didn't know?"

"Why would I?" She asked, turning to go into the kitchen.

She heard him move to follow her. "Because you meet with him." The moment he said it, a tense silence fell over them. It was the first time since their last spat that either of them had brought up the subject. With his lack of continual protest, she had assumed that Ronald had come to his senses and realised that she had a right to see whomever she so wished. That, however, seem to be far from the case. "Don't try to deny it, Hermione. I know that you're still meeting with him."

"I don't _meet_ him, Ronald – that would require us to plan before hand. But to answer your question: no, he never mentioned it." She explained, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove.

"All this time and you're telling me that he never so mentioned that he and Greengrass were planning on having a kid?"

"So it seems. Besides, it's not the sort of subject we normally discuss."

"Then what is?"

"Usually books, philosophy, politics, those sorts."

"That's it?"

"For the most part." She shrugged, opening a can of tomato paste.

"Well, what else do you talk about?"

Hermione stopped her cooking and looked up. He stood at the entrance of the kitchen, his arms crossed and a suspicious look on his face. Her eyes narrowed slightly, suddenly understanding where it was he was going with this. "Why does it matter?"

"I'm only saying that it's a bit odd that you meet with him so often – "

"We do not _meet_."

"That you _see_ him so often and you never discuss personal matters such as this with him?"

"If you have something to say then just say it already."

"I don't like you meeting with him, Hermione."

"For heaven's sake, Ronald! I've already told you that it's nothing. You don't have to act like I'm going to run off with him or some rubbish." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I'm sorry that you don't like it, but you cannot control who I see."

Ron didn't reply and a tense silence fell over them. Finally Hermione broke her gaze and turned her attention to the meal she had been preparing. After a few moments she heard Ron sigh. "He really didn't tell you? You honestly don't talk about those sorts of things?"

"Honestly." She said. "We mostly discuss books and the sorts, and even then it usually ends with an argument."

"...Alright." He mumbled, turning away.

It wasn't until she heard the bedroom shut a few moments later, that she dropped her cooking and leaned against the counter. She shook her head and let out a soft but frustrated groan. Astoria Greengrass was pregnant. With Malfoy's child. He was going to be a father and she was going to be a mother. It made sense, they were engaged after all.

What didn't make sense, however, was why it bothered her.

...

Two days passed before she saw Malfoy again.

And for the second time since their first meetings, Hermione hesitated when she saw him. She had been honest with Ron when she had told him that she and Malfoy did not normally discuss personal matters. The few times that they had it had always been about her personal matters. But even despite that, Hermione couldn't help but feel hurt that Malfoy hadn't brought up the topic to her. Because somewhere in between the way it had begun and their strange odds, she had actually begun to consider Draco Malfoy a friend.

Hermione shook her head. She was being utterly ridiculous. It had nearly been a week since she had last seen him and only two days since the article's release. She didn't even know if he and Greengrass had been planning the child, much less how long he had actually known about the pregnancy. There was absolutely no reason for it to upset her this much.

"I suppose congratulations are in order." She said taking her seat across from him.

Malfoy cocked his ever famous brow at her. "And for exactly what may I ask?"

"I saw the article in _The Prophet_ a few days ago. Greengrass is pregnant."

"Oh. Right." He turned his attention back to his meal.

Hermione stared at him confused. _That_ was most certainly not the reaction she had been anticipating. "Don't you want to be a father?" She finally asked after an awkward moment of silence.

"Of course I do."

"I'm afraid I don't follow then. You don't seem excited."

Malfoy put down his silverware and stared at her. He didn't bother to mask his emotions and she could clearly see his mental debate. Her interest peaked. Finally he sighed.

"Astoria and I, our engagement was arranged. For the most part, the Greengrass family remained out of the war. But in the last few years their business has taken a turn for the worse. The Malfoy wealth is as strong as ever. Our reputation on the other hand..."

"But you were cleared of all charges!" She protested. Malfoy stared at her. Their record may technically be clean, but unfortunately most people still associated the Malfoy name with Death Eaters. "Right." She mumbled.

"Now, as I was saying, our engagement was arranged. I had no problem with it if it would help my family. Astoria's alliances, however, are not solely with her family." He paused, but before she had the chance to digest anything, his eyes locked with hers. "Astoria is pregnant, but not with my child."

Hermione was silent and he returned to his dinner. "I'm sorry." She finally said.

"Don't be." He shrugged it off. "She made it perfectly clear from the start about her feelings. We've been trying to find a way to break the engagement off. Apparently she couldn't wait." His voice was hard, harsh, almost resentful.

Everything made all of a sudden made sense: his silence on his and Greengrass's relationship, his reaction on the pregnancy. Hermione's eyes softened.

"You love her."

"Don't be ridiculous."

She didn't believe him. "But you do care about her." This time he didn't reply, instead opting to return to his meal again. She placed a hand over his, stopping him. "I'm sorry.

He pulled his hand back. "I don't need your pity, Granger."

"I know." She mumbled. "But it isn't pity. I don't pity you, Draco."

His head snapped up at his name. He stared at her for a moment with an almost confused expression. Finally he nodded. Whether it was to what she had said or to her use of his first name, she wasn't sure. Still, she smiled softly and allowed for him to finish the rest of his meal.

They sat in peace for the remainder of their evening.

...

At three-forty five on the afternoon of their anniversary, Hermione apparated from the Ministry to her and Ron's flat. At approximately four she took her shower and was dressed by four forty-five. By five fifteen she had performed a few hair taming spells and applied a light coat of make-up. At five-thirty, Ron greeted her with a smile and a kiss, before apparating them both away. And at exactly five thirty-three, Hermione's eyes widened and she lost her breath.

"A Quidditch pitch?" She gasped. "We're going a match?"

"Not just any match – it's the Cannons versus the Pride of Portree. The winner goes on to the League Cup! Can you believe it?"

"No." She mumbled as Ron took her hand and led her towards the stands.

A Quidditch match. It was their anniversary and Ronald had brought them to see the Cannons match. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something, but the moment before she could, she caught sight of his grinning face and she hesitated. He was so excited about it and she wasn't sure she could bring herself to ruin his good mood. She sighed. Perhaps it wouldn't be _so_ bad.

Twenty-three minutes into the game, Hermione realized that it really would be _so_ bad. Ron had not even so much as given her a second glance once the match had begun.

"Ron."

"Yeah 'Mione?" Ron asked, his eyes barely breaking away from the match for a second.

"I think we need to ta – "

"YEAH." Ron jumped out of his as the Chudley Cannons scored.

Hermione stared at him for a moment before she sighed and shook her head. "You know what? Forget it." She stood and turned to leave.

"Oy! 'Mione where are you – no, no, no!" Ron's screams blended in with the rest of the Cannons' fans while she heard the Pride's fans cheer across the stadium.

She rolled her eyes and didn't even bother to glance back at him as she left the stands. It was nearly fifteen minutes that Ronald came and found her outside the arena.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked.

"Oh? So you mean you've noticed?"

"Of course I have. Now come on, the match was just getting good."

"I'm not going back there."

"What do you mean you're not coming back? Hermione, the Cannons have a chance of going to the League Cup – don't you realize what that means? Don't you want to see that?"

"Of course I don't!"

He stared at her as if she had just declared herself a Deatheater. "What?"

"Honestly Ronald, today is out _anniversary _– what in Merlin's name possessed you to think I would want to attend a Quidditch match?" She blinked back the tears she felt forming in her eyes.

"Because whenever we go to matches, you always have fun!"

"Because we go with the others! I have fun because I'm with all of you." She turned her back to him. "I don't understand. Ginny said she saw you buying opera tickets at the theatre."

"The theatre? I was picking up tickets for Bill and Fleur. But what does that have to do with this?" _Of course._ Hermione almost wanted to laugh. "Wait. The opera?" She didn't have to be facing him to see his face crinkle. "Why in Merlin's name would we go there? I hate the opera."

_He knows how much I want to go._

_Yes, but does that mean _he_'ll actually go?_

"Because I wanted to!" She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "I thought you would do that much for me." _I thought you would _want_ to do that much for me._

Ron was silent for a moment and in that moment, Hermione believed he understood. That her words had finally gotten to him and they would leave. It may have been too late for the opera, but it wasn't too late for them to enjoy their anniversary. The sound of cheers from the match buzzed in the background. Finally Ron sighed.

"Hermione, let's just go back to the stands."

"What?" She turned to face him, her wide eyes searching for any indication he was joking.

"If it's our anniversary, what does it matter where we are as long as we are together? Let's just see the rest of the match. Do this much for me."

Hermione wasn't sure what shocked her more, that he was trying to use her words against her or that he genuinely believed it was justified. "I'm not going back there, Ronald."

"Why the bloody hell not?" His face was red. "Why won't you do this for me?" He didn't bother to wait for her response and turned his back on her. "If you're going to be a hypocrite, then go ahead! I'll watch the match myself." Then, without so much as another glance, Ron stormed off.

Hermione watched him walk away, too shocked to even attempt to call him back. She felt her legs weaken and she collapsed into a small pool on the ground. Leaning her head back against the wall, she stared up at the stadium lights, in an attempt to blink back her tears. She didn't even glance away when she felt someone sit down beside her.

"Do you suppose maybe he's right?" She didn't bother to ask how much he'd seen. She had a feeling it was enough. "Am I being hypocritical?"

Draco didn't miss a beat. "Weasley's _never_ right." He explained, as if it were common knowledge. "It's one thing for him to do something he doesn't particularly enjoy for you. It's a complete different thing for him to do something you don't want to and expect you to be alright with it. Especially on your anniversary."

He was right, she knew he was. Hermione couldn't even bring herself to try to defend Ronald at the moment. Draco's words from their previous conversations rang in her ears. She let out a soft, bitter laugh. "I suppose you were right then. Maybe I do expect too much from him."

She expected him to agree with her. To tell her that he told her so and that, really, he had absolutely no pity for her by this point. He had warned her not once, but _twice_ about something such as this happening. And he was right.

"Go home." He said instead.

"I beg your pardon?" She glanced up at him for the first time since his arrival.

"Just go home – have dinner, read one of those awful books you always feel the need to quote to me, and go to bed. Don't let the bastard ruin the rest of your evening."

Hermione nibbled on her lip, contemplating his words. It would make sense for her to return home now. It was still early and the match wouldn't end for some time. If she were to leave now, she would have more than enough time to unwind, relax, and crawl into bed before Ronald got home, thus another spat.

She nodded. "Thank you." She mumbled, forcing a soft smile.

He didn't reply, but he nodded back at her. And suddenly it was the moment when she was supposed to get up, turn around, and leave. He had come here to see the match, not play therapist for her, so she was clearing keeping him from doing what he really wanted to do. But somehow, she couldn't will her body to move and leave him just yet. So she stood frozen there like some pathetic school girl, her eyes locked with his.

A loud cheer from the Pride's side of the arena and Hermione snapped back to reality. She shook her head. "It sounds as if the match is getting good. You should head back. Goodnight."

Determined not ruin his night any farther, Hermione slipped past him without another word. She had barely gotten ten feet away before she heard him. "Hermione." His voice was neither louder nor stronger than before, but somehow it seemed to carry over all of the ruckus in the background.

She felt her eyes widened slightly and her breath hitched; it was the first time he had called her by her name. Granted she had called him Draco first, but it wasn't quite the same as hearing her name from him. She turned to face him. "Yes, Draco?"

"I'm sorry." He said.

She stared at him for a moment, a soft smile at her lips. "Thank you." She nodded, before turning and apparating away.

_Hermione. _She arrived in the salon with a small smile on her lips.

Despite how horrid the day had gone, she couldn't help but think that perhaps some good had come from it after all. Nothing had changed between her and Draco but, somewhere in between their first run in at the Ministry and then, everything had. Tonight had proven that.

_Hermione_. The smile tugged further at her lips and her heart skipped a beat.

Her eyes widened, the sudden realization striking her. Oh Merlin, this was not good.

This was most definitely not good.

...

**I don't know which way to run****  
****And I feel myself coming undone****  
****And I don't know how much longer I can**  
_My Little Secret_, Cavo

* * *

**Note:** I'm so sorry for the late update. I did some serious thinking about this fic and decided that I am going to change the focus. I will not be making this my three part, six chapter fic. Instead I will end it at what was supposed to be the first part, because the focus of the story has changed. I realized that so many DHr fics have Hermione pursuing the relationship, but she's the one who is in this horrible relationship with Ron and Draco isn't, so I am going to have Draco be the one pursuing her instead. Hopefully I can do this. I also reworked some things to make this story longer so this will be three chapters instead of two I had planned to end it on. So one more chapter left! I only have three scenes left of it to write and so hopefully I'll be able to finish it this weekend and post it next week.

Also, since I posted so late, I'll dedicate the next chapter to my 20th reviewer (if I even get that many) and will either give out a free one-shot or dedicate my next fic to my 26th (since this is my 26th fic online) reviewer (again, if I even get that many).

Review, please. =]


	3. Three

**Title:** Somewhere in Between  
**Summary:** "Malfoy, I am not stalking you and I am most certainly _not _obsessed with you."_ – A coincidental __run in, the aftermath, and the little moments in between._  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. The song belongs to Lifehouse.  
**Warnings:** Not epilogue compliant, slight sexual content, slight language.  
**Word count: **5118.  
**Dedication:** For **Poetryfreak 173**, my 20th reviewer. Here's to you, Poetry! 3

* * *

**We're both looking for something**  
**We've been afraid to find**  
**Well, it's easier to be broken**  
**It's easier to hide**  
...

It only took Hermione twelve hours to see Draco again, entering the art gallery as she was leaving.

She had followed his advice the night before, preparing herself a quick dinner before curling into bed with her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. It hadn't taken long for her to fall asleep and when she had awoken early this morning, Ron had already left... assuming he had come home at all.

"Bit early to be at the gallery, don't you think?" Draco greeted her.

"Good morning to you too." She replied. "And you're one to talk."

"I'm here to pick up my tickets to the exhibition."

This time it was Hermione who cocked her brow. "The anniversary of the end of the war exhibition? You're attending?" Peace settled or not, an event honouring Harry seemed like the last thing Draco would want to be a part of. And Hermione imagined that tickets were neither easy nor cheap to come.

"Of course I am. Things aren't the same as they were then." He said, though his tone clearly implied that there was more to it than that.

Hermione nodded. "I see." And she did. It made perfect sense when she thought about it – it was hard to question the Malfoys' loyalties when they were paying to attend such extravagant events honouring the defeat of Voldermort.

"And you?"

"The same." She said. It was the truth; she did need to pick up her and Ron's tickets. She just wouldn't add that it wasn't the sole reason she had come. Her answered seemed sufficient enough for him and Draco nodded.

Hermione bit her lip, unsure of what to say next. Normally she had no problem conversing with him, but after the previous night, she was a bit unsure of what to say or how to act around him. She supposed a thank you was in order, but she couldn't bring herself to bring up the subject just yet. It was utterly ridiculous because absolutely nothing had changed, yet everything had.

She mentally shook her head, deciding to make some sort of excuse and leave. "Would you care to get a coffee?" She asked instead. She cursed her Gryffindor courage, but continued nevertheless. "I haven't had breakfast yet and I have sometime before I need to be at the Ministry."

Draco gave her a look she had never before seen him give. "Bloody hell woman. Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Of course not!" She was still with Ron and he was still technically engaged to Astoria. Though she supposed she could understand his confusion; it was the first time one of them had proposed a meeting instead of coincidentally bumping into each other. Still, his smirk was not helping her feel any less daft. "Forget it." She mumbled, turning to leave.

"Merlin's beard." He caught her arm before she could. "Haven't you ever heard of a joke?" He shook his head. "Give me a few minutes to pick up my tickets first."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at him, unamused by his humour, but sighed nevertheless. "Alright."

True to his word, Draco slipped into the gallery, fetched his tickets, and returned within five minutes. When he did, they agreed to meet at their café as neither of them were particularly fond of side-along apparition.

If the host wizard was startled to see the two of them together, he did not show it. Instead, he simply nodded and led them to a table in the back of the cafe. He left them with their menus and without another word.

"I still owe you a thank you from last night." Hermione said after a few moments of silence.

Draco paused but did not look up from his breakfast. "I didn't do anything noteworthy."

"Of course you did. Merlin only knows how long I would have stood there like that if you hadn't come along and settled me down. So thank you." She paused before adding, with a frown. "And I caused you to miss quite a bit of you match as well."

This time he snorted. "The Prides lost 160 to 175. You were the least troubling part of my evening."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile. Wizards and their Quidditch – it was the same with every last one of them. And the Prides losing meant The Canons were going to the League Cup. Ron had to be thrilled.

"Oh, well I supposed that explains that then." She mumbled, no longer smiling.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ronald wasn't home when I awoke this morning. I don't think he came home last night. If the Canons won, my guess is that he felt the need to celebrate."

Draco remained silent. She glanced up to find him staring at her, brows furred in apparent confusion. Finally he let out a rather dramatic sigh. "Sod it; I give up trying to make sense of your blasted logic. Why are you with Weasel still?"

"With Ron? Because I love him." And it was the truth. Despite their spats and whatever feelings she may or may not be developing for Draco, it didn't change that she loved Ron. "I have ever since fourth year."

"That's it? That's the only bloody reason you allow yourself to be miserable in this thing you call a relationship? Because you love him?"

"I am not miserable!"

"Need I remind you that we're having this conversation because last night he took you to a _Quidditch match_ for your _anniversary_?"

"So we have our problems – it's perfectly normal to have spats, you know." She explained. "I can't just throw away all those years as if they mean nothing to me."

He fell silent. "Fine then. If that's how you see things Granger then perhaps the two of you deserve each other."

If he had said that to her months ago, she would have seen his attempt as an insult but not taken it as one, because back then his opinion of her meant nothing and she was happy with Ron. If he had said it weeks ago, she would have seen his attack and given her own snide comment back, because by then she knew him well enough to know that any comparison to Ron was a tremendous insult as far as Draco was concerned. If he had said it weeks ago, she would have been hurt by his 'low' opinion of her and by how he had referred to her by her last name when she thought they were past that stage in their relationship. But when he said it now she knew there was more to it, because by now she knew there was a deeper meaning.

"Why?" was all she said in response.

"You're a bright witch, figure it out yourself."

"Well, why not save us some time and enlighten me instead?"

"It won't change anything, so I hardly see the point."

"Draco." Her voice was gentle and her hand covered his. "Please."

He stared down at her hand for a moment, a frown tugged on his lips. When she did not move it, he looked up and met her gaze. Though his expression was, for the most part, neutral, there was an apparent frustration swirling in his eyes. Hermione immediately felt the guilt tug at her, though she did not know what exactly she had done.

Finally he gave her a dramatic, annoyed sigh. "All you've done is prattle on about your feelings and how long they've been there. What you've failed to do, however, is give me a real sodding reason. Time isn't worth shit if you spend its entirety quarrelling and miserable. A relationship shouldn't be determined by your bloody history – it should be about your future. It isn't defined by your feelings – it's defined by the moments in between the two."

Had she not been so shocked, she would have noticed how almost out of characterly romantic his words were. She would have noticed that despite his typical blunt harshness, his voice cared a subtle softness to it. She would have noticed the deeper meaning he was trying to tell her. Because after twenty one run-ins with him, Hermione knew Draco well enough to know when he meant something other than what his words said. But this time his words were hitting much too close to the heart and she could only bring herself to focus on one thing.

"What sorts of moments?"

Draco hesitated for the slightest of moments, as if he had been afraid she would ask that. "The moments sharing the secrets no one else ever bothers to figure out." He finally answered. "The debates no one else cares for. The meetings that no one else can bloody well figure out." His eyes met hers and Hermione, suddenly lost in pools of grey, forgot how to breathe.

_The moments that belonged to them and them alone._

"I… I... I think I should head towards the Ministry. I'll be late if I don't." She mumbled, breaking the gaze. "I'll see you at the exhibition tomorrow." And then, against her inner-Gryffindor, Hermione ran away.

...

She kept herself occupied with work for the remainder of the day.

The moment Hermione arrived at the Ministry, she locked herself in her office and buried herself in her work. She passed on lunch and had a small dinner brought to her so that she wouldn't have to waste a single moment. Because if she had a moment to think, she knew her thoughts would land on the youngest Malfoy and that was the last thing she needed.

_A relationship isn't defined by your feelings or your bloody history._

By the time she returned home that night, too tired to even think, Ron was already asleep in their room, snoring so loud Hermione knew it would keep her awake all night. She had to be back at the Ministry early in the morning to complete a few more things before she met up with Ginny to get ready for the exhibition later that night. It would do her absolutely no good to do all of that without being completely rested.

_It's defined by the moments in between._

She stood at the doorway of their bedroom and gave a soft sigh before shutting the door and retiring to the guest room, telling herself that getting enough sleep was the only reason she wouldn't enter the room.

_The moments that belonged to them and them alone._

...

It was just as Hermione was leaving her office that an owl came tapping on her window.

She sighed, but put her bag down and opened the window nevertheless. Taking the delivery, she offered the bird a treat before allowing it to fly off. She smiled softly before closing the window again and leaning against her desk.

The only thing the owl had left her with was a small, thin envelope. It was far too thin to be even a letter, much less anything of significance. All the same, she had a few extra moments before she needed to meet Ginny, and opened it. When she did, her eyes widened and she let out an audible gasp.

Inside were two tickets to the opera.

There was no name or note to indicate from whom it had come, but Hermione was fairly sure she didn't need it. As much as she wanted to think Ron had come to his sense and bought them as an apology, she couldn't bring herself to actually believe it. She had only told one other person about her desire to go and judging from the elegant script her name had been written in, she had no doubt that it had been him.

_He knows how much I want to go._

_I thought you would _want_ to do that much for me._

Hermione forgot how to breathe.

...

She and Ron barely spoke that evening.

When she apparated back to the flat, hair and make-up already in tact, she went straight into the closet and changed into her new robes. Ron was in their room, buttoning up his own dress robes, when she emerged. Their eyes locked and an awkward tension shifted between them. Hermione finally broke her gaze.

"You look nice." Ron said.

"Thank you." She mumbled, fetching her shoes. "You do too."

They didn't speak again even when the time came to take their tickets – activated to serve as a portkey – and they left the flat with a soft pop. Even then it didn't take them long to separate once they reached the gallery, each going their own ways to meet and mingle with different people.

"Can you believe it? A painting from one of the Blacks?"

"Who would have ever imagined?"

"Actually," Hermione smiled at the two witches in front of Druilla Black's painting. "This particular piece happens to be one of my personal favourites."

She spent the next several moments discussing the Black's artwork before she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Tilting her head away slightly, she spotted Draco staring at her from the doorway of the balcony. Summoning her Gryffindor courage, she excused herself from the two witches before following the blonde wizard outside to the balcony.

Resting against the railings, Hermione smiled as she gazed up at the stars. "Lovely night, don't you think?"

"I suppose so."

A soft silence filled between them. It was similar to the comfortable silence they had grown accustomed to sharing. Still, a slight awkwardness lingered, both of them wanting to speak but neither knowing where to start.

"Thank you." Hermione finally all but blurted. "For the tickets."

"So you got them then." It wasn't a question, but she found herself nodding regardless. "Good." Draco paused for a moment and she turned her gaze back to the stars. "My grandmother's painting." She felt him move beside her. "Yesterday morning when you were leaving the gallery, you had them add it to the exhibition, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because people should see it." She answered honestly, turning her head back to see him. "It shouldn't be hidden away in some small room; it should be where everyone can see it. They need to know that the war didn't only affect one side. It was a _war_ – it affected all of us. Druilla deserves to have her feelings shown, Black or not, and the world needs to see it."

Everything she said was true, but there was more to it than that. She had done it for him, because after everything he had done for her, she wanted to do something for him. Something he deserved, because he wasn't the evil deatheater many still believed him to be. Merlin, he wasn't even the annoying prat he had been throughout Hogwarts. So maybe by seeing Druilla Black's painting the world could see the war hadn't just hurt their side, it had hurt the others as well. It had changed people. It had changed Draco.

And even though she hadn't said it, she knew he understood.

"Thank you." He mumbled.

"You don't have to thank me, Draco." She smiled, her hand covering his. "I wanted to."

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but closed it instead, almost as if he didn't know how to. Vaguely, Hermione wondered if anyone had ever done something like this for him before. It was a horrid thought, but judging on the way he was reacting, she didn't think anyone had. She squeezed his hand softly to let him know he didn't have to say anything else; she understood.

His eyes lingered on her hand for a moment and she felt his hand tighten around hers. Her smile grew and he turned his gaze so that his eyes were locked with hers and she was suddenly finding it rather difficult to breathe.

She couldn't be sure which of them moved first, but the next thing she knew the space between them had closed. His lips brushed against hers, tentative for the slightest of moments, before he pressed further. Intuitively, her arms wrapped around his neck as his circled around her waist, pulling them closer

Her eyes remained shut, not daring to ruin the moment, even after they broke apart. Her fingers curled into the back of his robes, holding on to him and Draco rested his forehead against hers allowing his slightly staggered breath to mingle with hers. And in that one moment, she was sure everything was how it should be.

"...our heroes Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger." A voice in the distance called, announcing the trio to the stage.

_Ronald Weasley._

_Ron._

"Oh Merlin." She cursed, pulling herself away from Draco as quickly as she could. For the smallest of seconds she could have sword she saw a look of hurt flash across his face. Guilt filled her even more and she couldn't bear to even face him. "I'm sorry." She mumbled, tears blurring her vision. "I...I just can't." She turned on her heel as quickly as she could, nearly tripping herself in the process, and ran.

...

It took exactly seventy-two hours for the news to spread across Wizarding London.

Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy were no longer engaged.

_Witch Weekly _reported that the night after the exhibition, Greengrass and Blaise Zambini had taken to France and eloped. Hermione suspected that while the Greengrasses were not pleased with it, they couldn't heavily object. While not their first choice, the Zambini wealth was still strong, though she imagined it was nothing when compared to the Malfoys...

_Draco_.

According to the article he had no quarrels with Zambini or Greengrass. He had wished them well and stated that the ties between the Malfoys and their families would remain the same. The article had then gone on to imply that he had not completely meant his words, but Hermione suspected that was mostly due to the writer trying to make the story more interesting for the readers.

Although she couldn't exactly be certain seeing as how she hadn't seen Draco since the exhibition. She had spent her time strictly between the Ministry and the flat, working through lunch. She kept her mind occupied at all times, rarely allowing herself to have a moment for idle thoughts. But every so often – when she stopped to shower, when her eyes became too far sore to read anymore, when she had no choice but to take a break – her mind became free to wander and the idle thoughts floated to her. One idle thought, to be precise.

_Draco_.

...

Exactly one week after the exhibition, Ginny insisted that they go out to lunch.

The youngest Weasley had caught wind of Hermione's work current habits and had shown up at the Ministry, refusing to take no for an answer. So at noon that particular afternoon, the two witches apparated to a small, but quaint restaurant outside Diagon Alley.

Once there Ginny wasted no time. "I heard about what happened with Ron. Merlin, 'Mione, I'm so sorry. I had no idea – I honestly thought the tickets were for you."

Hermione frowned, a sudden guilt filling her. Between her work and the events of the exhibition, she had almost forgotten about the incident on her and Ron's anniversary. They had barely seen each other, much less spoken, in the past week. She shook her head.

"It's okay, Ginny."

"No, it's not. A Quidditch match for your anniversary? Honestly, I can't understand what goes through my brother's head sometimes." She shook her head. "I don't blame you for leaving."

Hermione stared at the youngest Weasley before shaking her head. "I have something for you." She said instead of replying to her comment.

Ginny hesitated for a moment, as if she weren't ready to drop the subject, but finally took the envelope Hermione handed her. She opened it and gasped. "_The Muggle's Flute_? Merlin, Hermione, it's been sold out for weeks! Are you sure you don't want these?"

"I have to work that night." She explained.

It wasn't a complete lie – she _did_ have work – but neither was it the complete truth. Draco had left her with two tickets. She couldn't ask him to come with her now (and it wasn't as if she had seen him to do so regardless), but at the same time she couldn't bring herself to go with Ron. As ridiculous as it sounded, it almost felt like a betrayal to use Draco's gift with Ron.

"I thought you and Harry would be able to put better use to it."

"I don't understand." Ginny replied. "How did you even get these? They're impossible to find."

"They were a gift."

"From who?"

Hermione hesitated. "Draco." She answered, realising that it would be easier to admit the truth than to lie to her friend.

Ginny gave her an almost baffled look. "_Draco_? I wasn't aware you were on such a close basis with _Malfoy_."

"Don't you start too."

An awkward silence fell over them. Hermione felt Ginny's eyes follow her when she turned her gaze to her meal. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" Ginny asked.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide. "What do you mean? I love your brother."

"That doesn't answer my question, 'Mione. You can love more than one person at a time. So tell me, are you in love with Malfoy?"

Hermione didn't answer.

...

The following evening she was back in Ron's arms.

She wasn't exactly sure how it happened, honestly. She had come home early, determined to talk to him. They couldn't continue to avoid each other as if they were awkward school children. They were adults for Merlin's sake and it was time they started behaving like it.

The next thing she knew they were in the bedroom with his hands under her blouse and her lips locked with his.

Somewhere in between her decision and then, her eyes had met Ron's and her Gryffindor courage had failed her. She had realised she wasn't nearly as prepared as she had previously thought. Because, in all honesty, she wasn't sure of the outcome – wasn't sure they could survive another spat. Not now. But Hermione couldn't imagine her life without Ron. She loved him. She always had.

_That's it? That's the only bloody reason you allow yourself to be miserable in this thing you call a relationship? Because you love him?_

Her eyes widened and before she could comprehend why exactly she was thinking of Draco now of all times, her body reacted and she broke away from him, all but leaping off of the bed. She heard Ron sit up and could feel his gaze on her. She distracted herself by attempting to smooth down the wrinkles on her blouse.

"Bloody hell! Are you alright?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes."_ No._ "I just..." she trailed off when she finally looked up to him again. It was then she knew she couldn't avoid what she needed to say any longer. "Ron, what happened on our anniversary?" She asked at last.

His eyes widened. "Let's not go there, 'Mione."

"We need to talk about it, Ronald."

"Can't we just forget about it?"

If only it was still that simple. Hermione almost wished she truly could forget and pretend it had never happened. But she couldn't; not anymore at least. Somewhere in between the start of their relationships and the past months, something had changed. And she had to know.

"No. I don't think we can. Not if we want to make us work."

Ron was silent. A tense silence fell over them. It was only when she was going to ask if he had heard her that he finally spoke. And then even then he hesitated, as if he were unsure of what he himself was saying.

"Are... are we going to make this work?"

It was on the snap of her tongue to snap back that of course they would. They had been together for years – she had loved him far longer. How could they not make it work? They _had_ to make it work. But before she could open her mouth, Draco's words rang in her ears.

_A relationship shouldn't be determined by your bloody history – it should be about your future._

And, finally, Hermione knew.

"No." She answered. "I don't think we can."

...

She found him later that night, alone on a park bench.

His head was turned, his attention elsewhere. The light from the street lamps was dull, barely revealing him, but even from where she stood, she knew it was him. It was apparent in the blonde of his, the quality of his robes, the way he held himself. But there was more to it than that – she knew this much now. Somewhere in between the courses of their many meetings, she had acquired the sense to know when he was near. In a small way, it was still a strange thought, but she couldn't help but smile at it.

He didn't move when she sat next to him, his attention still locked elsewhere, but she did nothing more to signal her arrival. They sat in silence for a few moments more before he finally spoke, his voice lingering.

"All the days I went to that sodding cafe and the one time I wasn't searching for you, you show up. It shouldn't surprise me that you wouldn't make this so easy for me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You haven't exactly made things easy for me either, you know. I was happy before you came and shuffled everything about. Everything was simple."

Draco snorted. "Simple doesn't suit you. You've always needed to make things complicated."

She lets out a soft laugh. She couldn't deny him there. The corner of his lips tugged slightly, but he said nothing and a soft silence fell over them.

Hermione tilted her head upwards, turning her gaze to the sky. A few stars shone down at them, but most were hidden behind the gathering clouds. Was it supposed to rain tonight? She couldn't remember.

"I – "

"We broke up." She cut him off. "Ron and I." She could feel his gaze on her. "We're not right for each other anymore, maybe we never really were." She explained, never once breaking her gaze from the stars. "It's over. We're over."

"Hermione..."

At last she turned her head to face him, but when she did the rain she had predicted came. A few drops trickled down her cheek, quickly followed by several more. She stood, ready to suggest that they move to a drier location, but froze when he caught her arm. Never letting her go, Draco too stood. His fingers brushed the drops from her face and she felt her breath hitch at his touch. Her eyes met with his and then, in that moment, she forgot how to breathe all together.

"Hermione." He mumbled her name again, tilting her chin up to him.

"Everything's going to change now." She said before he could lean down. "My entire life, everything I've known for years is going to change." She explained. He said nothing, his eyes on hers, waiting for her to continue. "I... I'm scared." She finally admitted. "I have absolutely no idea what will happen and it terrifies me."

Draco remained silent, his eyes searching hers. She almost expected him to laugh at her. She had face Dementors, werewolves, even Voldermort himself, but here she was terrified of a relationship. It was rather comical, really.

He didn't laugh but an amused smirk did tug at his lips. "Since when has Hermione bloody Granger backed away from a challenge?" He asked, but continued before she could even begin to digest his words. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, almost as if he were nervous of what he was saying next. "I'm scared too."

It was strange, hearing Draco confess such a thing. Throughout all their Hogwarts years, Malfoy had shown cowardice on more than one occasion, but he had never dared to admit it. It was the last thing Hermione had expected from him, but somehow it was exactly what she needed to know. He was just as terrified as her because, honestly, they had absolutely no idea where this would lead them. If it would lead them anywhere at all. In all reality, it could very well be the most ridiculous mistake of their lives.

But if Draco Malfoy – the boy her friends had often mocked for his lack of courage – could take the risk, who was Hermione Granger of the Golden Trio to back down?

The rain continued to fall around them, but she was no longer paying any head. A smile pulled at her mouth and nodded to him. His own usual smug grin grew and he leaned down, brushing his lips to hers.

Draco Malfoy. He was by most people's definition the exact opposite of her perfect match. He was stubborn, annoying, and far too full of himself. She was Hermione Granger and she was supposed to represent everything he had been raised to hate. She was moody, bossy, and born in the Muggle world. They fought, they argued, they often could not even begin to see eye-to-eye, but somehow that no longer mattered. Because somewhere in between all her doubts and all the reasons that said it was all wrong, Hermione found something more important – she found Draco and he found her, faults and all.

And, somehow, she knew that was enough.

**...**

**Looking at you, holding my breath**  
**For once in my life I'm scared to death**  
**I'm taking a chance letting you inside**  
**I'm feeling alive all over again**  
_First Time_, Lifehouse

* * *

**Note**: Since I write so many one-shots, I always have so many mixed feeling about finishing a mult-shot. On the one hand I'm like "omg, I'm finally done!" but on the other, it's kind of sad. I get so attached to my stories that I kind of get a little depressed that I won't have the chance to continue it anymore. But, nevertheless, I am very proud of how this fic turned out. It's different from my original ending (in which Draco and Hermione did not end up together) but I'm still happy with it. Who knows, maybe I'll write my original plan someday. (But right now, I think I need a break from multi shots. Haha.)

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I hope you like the happy ending, because those aren't so common with me. Haha. ;-]

Review, please.


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